Housewife
by BluStrawberri
Summary: Dan loves being a housewife. Scratch that—Dan loves being /Phil's/ housewife. Domestic fic. AmazingPhilxdanisnotonfire Phan PhilxDan


A/N: Hey, guys! It's been so long! I have so little free time between full-time work and school to write, which is a shame. Hopefully with summer coming up, I should have more time. I really should take summer courses to hurry up my degree, but I ain't taking 1+ class three times a week for eight weeks. Anyways, I wanted to write something domestic, and here it is! Kind of inspired a lot by my relationship, not gonna lie. Let's hope he never reads this.

Warnings: Erm, none (for once). Unless breaking gender norms bothers you?

OoO

Dan loves being a housewife.

Scratch that—Dan loves being _Phil's_ housewife. Because in all honesty, that's what he is. Phil is the messiest person known to man; you can actually see where he's been in the house by the trail of clothes and receipts and junk mail littering the floor and tables. Phil's by no means a hoarder, and Dan's pretty sure the ebony-haired boy is unaware of his destructive tendencies, but it's still funny and frustrating at the same time. Dan never comments, however, when he quietly trails behind Phil and picks up the clothes off of the floor and throws away the excess papers scattered about. He never comments when Phil is dead to the world in the morning and Dan just slides the plate of freshly cooked breakfast under the older boy's nose so he'll know it's there because his eyes are near closed and he doesn't have his contacts in. Or when Phil falls asleep on the couch when they're watching Master Chef late at night, and Dan has to smile at the sound of soft snoring as he gently reaches over and slides the blanket just a little higher over Phil's shoulders.

Whatever Phil does, Dan will always be there to look after him. People look at them and always ask Dan how he does it. Why isn't he annoyed yet? And Dan's answer is always the same. It's still the same when Phil finally catches him one day in the kitchen.

"Dan?" comes a groggy voice, and Dan looks over to the kitchen entryway to see a slightly-leaning and half-awake Phil rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Phil, it's three in the morning. You should be asleep," Dan tsk's as he resumes washing the previously abandoned stacks of dishes.

Phil yawns. "Yeah, well so should you. The bed's too cold without you."

Dan chuckles and smiles. "Go back to bed. I'll be done in a few minutes, and then I'll join you and be your personal radiator."

Dan turns around, still smiling, because he knows that Phil probably isn't functional now and will probably shuffle off to bed. Either that, or his boyfriend's curiosity will get the best of him and maybe Dan might get some company. He grins when he hears the padding of Phil's feet and feels strong arms wrap around him from behind. He can't help a giggle when the older boy presses a small kiss to the back of his head.

"Nah," Phil mutters into Dan's hair, "I'm already up. Need some help?"

Dan considers this for a moment, looking over at the impossibly high stack of dishes with a grimace. "Yeah, that'd be great. I'll wash, you dry?"

"Sounds like a plan," Phil agrees, and he slowly unwraps his arms from Dan's waist and takes up a spot next to the brunette. When he sees Phil's gaze scanning the area, Dan chuckles and hands him the Super Mario towel from its usual place on the oven door.

They share a comfortable silence as they fall into a pattern of wash, hand over, towel dry, and stack. Dan often wonders how Phil ever survived living alone; he's hopeless when it comes to locations and household duties. Then again, Phil wasn't on his own for very long.

It was Phil who broke the silence. "Do you _always_ do dishes this late?"

Dan shook his head. "Not usually. We just had a lot to do today and I didn't have time to get to them until now. They were piled kind of high, so it bothered me a little."

"I'm beginning to think you're OCD," Phil tells him, and Dan laughs.

"I'm just _cleanly_," Dan teases, bumping Phil with his hips, "unlike sexy, tall, fringed monsters who leave a path of destruction in their wake."

"I'm not a 'fringed monster'," Phil sniffs, feigning hurt. "I'm an _adorably_ fringed monster."

"You forgot sexy," Dan says helpfully. "And tall."

"Well, we're _both_ tall," Phil counters.

"And sexy," Dan grins, and Phil rolls his eyes at him as they share a laugh.

Phil is silent after that, and Dan waits a moment before turning back to the dishes. Although Phil doesn't speak, Dan can tell something is on the ebony-haired boy's mind by the way he's absentmindedly chewing at his bottom lip.

"You're biting your lip again," Dan informs him casually, not pausing or looking up from the dishes. He sneaks a glance at Phil from the corner of his eyes, though.

"Oh, sorry," Phil mumbles, releasing his lip and frowning.

"What's up?" Dan asks softly, noticing the way Phil subconsciously leans closer after the question was asked.

Phil's teeth go for his bottom lip again, but he catches himself at the last minute. "Um, well, I just feel sort of bad."

"What? Why?"

"Well, I'm sleeping in the bed all cozy, and here you are doing dishes at 3am because you didn't have time today," Phil says, guilt radiating off of him in waves.

"Don't be silly," Dan says, smiling and nudging him with his shoulder. "I _like_ doing dishes late a night. They help me think."

"Do you like picking up my clothes, too?" Phil asks, his voice quiet but slightly wavering. "Or cooking me things every day even if I'm not awake enough to fully enjoy it? Putting away my drinks when I'm done, sneaking off to finish chores at night after I've gone to bed? I can list a whole bunch of things, Dan, that you do for me. What I _can't_ list are things that I do for _you_."

Dan frowns. "Is _that_ what's been bothering you lately? That I do more chores than you?"

"No," Phil groans, and Dan lets him get away with biting his lip this time because he knows the boy is upset. "It's just, you take care of me without thinking anything of yourself. I'm like, the messiest person in the world and you just clean up my messes and pick things up and take care of me, and I don't do that much for you in return. Why?"

Dan sighs and puts down the dish he is currently washing. He turns to Phil and gently pushes his fringe behind his ear and smiles as the ebony-haired boy leans into the touch subconsciously. "It's because I like being a housewife."

"A…what?" Phil blinks, frowning. "Dan, we're not married. And you're not a girl."

"Who says gender or a fancy piece of paper has anything to do with it?" Dan points out. "I don't know why exactly, but I love doing things for you. I love that I can help you out and take care of you, even if you don't know I'm doing it. I get a weird sort of enjoyment out of doing domestic things with you, like going grocery shopping or making you breakfast or just doing chores because I know you're too forgetful to even _think_ about proper clothing placement. It's never felt like a burden, if that's what you're getting at. I genuinely enjoy these things because it's _you_, and I love you, and I want to marry you someday and make it official how much I love you. I can't give you kids, but I'd like to have them someday, and I'll take care of them, too. It's not a subservient attitude; it's just that I enjoy making you happy. And I want to make you happy for the rest of my life."

"Dan," Phil breathes, putting a hand over his mouth so Dan can't see the goofy smile on his face. Not that Dan doesn't know it's there; Phil can hide his lips, but he can't hide the crinkles in his eyes. "That's…so wonderful. I didn't know you felt that way. I love you too, so much."

Dan smiles shyly, trying to ignore the sudden heat in his cheeks by bumping his shoulder into Phil's again. "Well, y'know, we've kinda been dating for three years. I figured you'd get that part by now."

Phil laughs and bumps Dan's shoulder in return. "Cheeky bum. I'm trying to say how much I appreciate you. I know you don't think I notice, but I do. I notice everything that you do for me, and I notice how you do it without expecting thanks in return. I've wanted to say something about it for a while now, and I just wanted to make sure you didn't feel like it was a burden or something."

"You'd _never_ be a burden to me," Dan says vehemently. "Ever."

"Well, good. Because while we're on the subject…" Phil reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, blue velvet box. "I figured we'd make it official. Because we're kind of married already, and, y'know, I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. Dan, I—"

"Yes!" Dan cries, and his hands itch to reach over towards that box that Phil still holds, his mind burning with curiosity and glee.

"Wait, I haven't even done that thing yet!" Phil chastises, holding the box out of arm's reach. "I've been planning this for months and I reserve the right to say something completely sappy and grossly sentimental."

Dan grins. "Okay, okay. Go ahead."

Phil rolls his eyes and clears his throat. "First of all, the floor is cold and I'm not bruising my knee in the name of love."

"How romantic," Dan mutters playfully.

"Shut it, you," Phil sticks out his tongue in reply. He clears his throat again. "Anyway, we've been dating for three years, and I've actually been planning this for a year now, but I couldn't afford the ring so I've been saving up for one and I finally got it. I love you, Daniel, and I can't image spending my life with anyone else but you. You're my housemate, but I want you to be my house_wife_. Will you marry me?"

Dan chuckles. "Wow, what a line. And yes, of course I'll marry you. Now show me the ring!"

Phil rolls his eyes and handed Dan the box. With shaky hands, Dan opens the box and gasps. It is a silver ring made up of small, intertwined bands with what looks to be an emerald in the center. It's simple, just how Phil knows that Dan likes. Somehow it still seems to sparkle in the dim lighting of the kitchen, and Dan can't be more pleased. He slips the ring on with a grin.

"How'd I do?" Phil asks casually, although there is nervous lift to the tone.

"That fulfilled all expectations and I love you and you're horrible at delivery," Dan teases, grin still stuck on his face.

"Hey, I did some wonderful improvisation there," Phil defends, pouting playfully.

"That you did," Dan rolls his eyes and chuckles. "Now, it's four in the morning and the dishes are kind of done, so let's get to bed before the birds annoy the hell out of us."

"Good plan," Phil grins, trying and failing to stifle a yarn that slips out.

And after they make the sleepy trek to the bedroom, and when they are in bed and almost asleep, Dan has a thought.

"I need a dress," he whispers to Phil.

"No you don't. Go to bed," Phil murmurs, but Dan can hear the amusement in his voice.

"If I'm going to be your house_wife_, I need a pretty dress," Dan insists.

"No," Phil mutters sleepily. "But I _can_ carry you across the threshold and get you a ridiculously girly apron."

Dan grins. "Deal."

"Now go to bed," Phil instructs, turning over so Dan knows the conversation is over.

"Yes, dear." Dan says, giggling quietly and snuggling up behind the ebony-haired boy. As he drifts off to sleep, he inhales the scent of his Phil, and his heart tightens at the thought of spending the rest of his life with this wonderful man. Phil was wrong; Dan might do a bunch of things for Phil, but all Dan wanted from Phil is for him to be _here_ and _alive_ and always there for the brunette. Dan loves being Phil's housewife. And now, finally, he can.


End file.
